


The Flu

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [8]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Athena (mentioned) - Freeform, Bathing, Caring, Eos (mentioned), Hermes (mentioned) - Freeform, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 10:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Icarus is sick.





	The Flu

By default, Icarus isn’t a particularly cheery guy. He’s prone to sarcasm, depression, and cynicism – even when he’s in fine health.

When he’s not in fine health, the grouchiness goes off the charts.

A long coughing fit is punctuated by two mighty sneezes and a curse. “Is there some god of sickness so I can kick his ass,” Icarus raves hoarsely, looking around for more Mucinex. 

Helios laughs from where he’s sitting improbably balanced on the back of a kitchen chair. “As it so happens, that particular asshole is in your apartment right now!”

Icarus looks up through bleary eyes at Helios, who’s pointing at Apollo, who’s looking at Icarus thoughtfully.

Icarus blinks. “Wait – I thought you were a doctor? The god of healing? You heal people!”

“And kill them, sometimes. Both aspects of disease fall under my domain. Though I lay no claim to this attack on your immune system,” Apollo says absently, leaning over to inspect Icarus closely. Icarus feels too shitty to blush; he just glowers and wavers where he stands.

“…It does appear your initial production of white blood cells has failed to fight off the virus. It’s an infection now; a pity. You’ll have to go through the unpleasantness of fever and phlegm to dispel it.”

“I’ll be happy to help you kick his ass, Icarus, just say the word!”

Icarus groans and grabs a glass of water and the Mucinex, retreating to his room. 

———

By the following morning, it’s evident that Apollo’s prediction is coming true, as usual.

Icarus can’t even leave his bed without stumbling dizzily. Apollo had wordlessly steered him back to his nest of blankets, leaving him with a fresh glass of juice, and retrieved Icarus’ student handbook from his desk. If Icarus had been in slightly better health, he might have been annoyed by how familiar Apollo is with Icarus’ things; he’s clearly snooped before. As it is, though, Icarus doesn’t have the energy to care, and just shuts his eyes and tries to force air in through his congested airways.

Apollo is talking on Icarus’ cell phone now. “Yes, Professor Mansouri. I am calling on behalf of a student of yours, Icarus. He will be unable to attend your lecture today, and probably not for the following two days. He is quite ill with a viral infection. I’d like to discuss whatever arrangements are necessary for his coursework in this absence.”

A pause, and then: “Ah, yes, of course you need to know to whom you are speaking. My name is Apollo; I am his lover.”

This raises a chorus of noise, in the form of Icarus sitting up, spinning with dizziness but croaking out a protest at Apollo’s oblivious bluntness, while Helios cracks up where he’s lounging in the window frame.

—————-

His phone rings again while Apollo is out at the grocer’s and apothecary. Apollo had been prepared to lecture Icarus on the importance of keeping a stock of medications on hand, as well as healthy foods in his pantry – but upon seeing the way Icarus’ eyes aren’t focusing and he keeps being overcome by a wretched deep hacking fit that leaves him weak and shivering on the bed, Apollo decides to spare him the lecture. Or postpone it, more likely. In any case, Apollo is gone obtaining supplies and has left Helios to supervise. The Titan is fulfilling his obligation by narrating aloud from an erotic sunjung manhwa he got from one of his sisters.

“So then in this panel, Soon-Im is totally interested in Min-su, she looks like she’s about twenty seconds away from throwing herself at him beaver-first, but she tosses her head and says that she can never forget her summer with Hwi-Sun. Idiot. Hwi-Sun’s already up to his elbows in Ji-Hyo and she knows it – oh, your phone?”

Icarus has been dozing in and out, waking up in time to hear a raunchy descriptive passage before drifting off again, and the phone’s ringtone comes to him as though in a dream. 

He waves a hand in the phone’s direction, not opening his eyes. “C’n you geddit,” he mumbles in a whisper, the illness making him forget what a bad idea this would be.

There’s a pause, and the ringtone cuts off, replaced by Helios’ voice. “Yo, this is Helios, on Icarus’ phone… oh hey, you’re Leroy? The grandpa from the flower shop, right, yeah – oh, I bet he was supposed to come in today. Yeah, well, he’s sick as a dog. Probably because he doesn’t take care of himself… Me? Oh, well,” Icarus can sense the grin forming on Helios’ face. “…I’m his lover.”

There’s a pause, and then Helios speaks again, sounding annoyed. “Listen, Grandpa, I’m definitely old enough, and for your information, I’m much hotter than Apollo!” Icarus presses the heel of his palm to his forehead, unable to summon the energy to intervene as Helios casually sets him up for an extremely embarrassing return to work. “No, Apoop’s still around. There’s two of us – haha, yeah, this guy’s got plenty of fire for both of us! Well, I mean. Not at present, but in general. Right now I don’t even know if he can sit up on his own. Yeah, he looks like a shredded sack of shit. Oh? Yeah, I bet he’d like that. Sure, one of us will come get it later. Okay. Later.”

Helios sounds smug and amused as he hops over to seat himself next to Icarus in his bed. “Leroy called. He says you’re a scamp and a rogue, but he sounded impressed. Elverna’s making some food for you. That’s sweet that they care so much, isn’t it?”

But Icarus is already drifting, with odd dreams of Apollo and Helios speaking in Korean as they chase Icarus around the flower shop…

——————-

When he wakes, he feels awful. The process of waking is gradual and miserable, and one of the first things that he’s aware of is Apollo and Helios arguing.

“…objectively the hottest. And I have a motorcycle! So I’m the badass one too!”

“Everything you’re saying is debatable and in my opinion, wrong, but it’s a moot point. A hypothetical hot badass on a motorcycle is interesting, but only one of the two of us has actually gone out to meet and charm all these boring people, while the other one – that is to say, you, Helios – is lazing around in the sky playing with his dick.”

“Hey!”

Icarus is shaking, his body aches everywhere. He feels like he can’t get warm enough, and yet his sheets are soaked through with sweat. His pajamas are actually dripping with sweat. He senses, rather than smells, the reek of sickness – his head is so congested that he couldn’t possibly smell anything, and that’s probably lucky. 

He tries to call out to the gods, but his voice is gone. The effort of trying to say anything makes his head hurt. The gods continue to speak, unaware.

“You’re simply going to have to slum it with the mortals more often. Start with the old people; they’re quite amiable. You can go get the food from them later.”

“I slummed it with his retail co-workers last month…”

“It’s an ongoing commitment, Helios. I know you’re a charm school dropout, but I’m sure you can manage-”

“I have more charm in my left pinky than you have in your entire body, brat!”

Icarus drags himself painfully out of his bed. The action makes his head swim and he sits there for a moment, eyes closed, before he tries to walk towards the hall, where the gods are.

“Practice on Ares, perhaps, or Athena. If you can keep either of them interested for the duration of an entire conversation, you’ll have the mortals eating out of your hand.”

“Pfft. I’ll believe it if I can see you do it first.”

“H-hey…” Icarus manages, wobbling as he clings to the doorframe. “I need…”

His words are lost as he stumbles and collapses, the apartment blurring around him.

————-

When he comes back around, he’s still sitting on the floor in the hallway, so the blackout must’ve only lasted a moment. Helios and Apollo are kneeling next to him, looking concerned. 

“Shit, Mop-Head, you gave us a heart attack!”

“You’re in bad shape, Icarus; you need to return to bed.”

Icarus opens his mouth, with the intent of trying to explain that his sheets are disgusting and too cold and too hot, and he’s thirsty and his throat and face hurt and he can’t breath, but he begins coughing instead. A deep, painful cough that ends with him throwing up on Apollo.

Horrified mortification pierces through the fog of sickness, and tears of shame threaten to spill over. “Sh-shit, I’m, I’m sorry…” he wheezes wretchedly.

“Icarus. It’s nothing. I’m a doctor, remember? It’s nothing, I promise.” Helios has put his hands to Icarus’ shoulders, holding him steady while Apollo carefully removes his soiled shirt. Icarus barely notices the gleaming appearance of Apollo’s bare chest; he’s too busy coughing again. “In any case, I can hardly keep company with the gods I do without having this happen, and with far less good excuse.”

“Dionysus still owes you a shirt, doesn’t he?” Helios asks absently, rubbing Icarus’ back.

“Yes, he does. So don’t worry about it, Icarus. Let’s worry more about your health, at the moment.” Apollo carefully lifts Icarus in his arms and fuck, he’s so warm, this is what Icarus needed. “Helios, start a bath… keep the temperature around 85 degrees or so.”

Helios vanishes, presumably off to the bathroom, and Apollo walks carefully behind, carrying Icarus, who can’t seem to cling close enough to this source of heat. “Poor boy,” Apollo murmurs, kissing his hair.

The tub is already full when they arrive, and Icarus doesn’t have the presence of mind to marvel at the speed. He doesn’t have the ability to feel embarrassed or shy when the gods wordlessly strip him out of his pajamas and set him in the tub. He shivers until the warm water closes around him; then sits there, slouched over, eyes closed, while Helios pours warm water over his hair and back slowly from a deep cup. 

Apollo goes away and comes back with a tea that Icarus doesn’t need to be able to smell to know that it’s disgusting, full of healthy herbs and crap, but he’s too tired and worn to care or make a remark. Apollo is saying something to Helios but Icarus is falling asleep where he sits in the tub.

——–

He startles out of his short sleep in a panic – he’s up to his chest in water, and the congestion blocks him from breathing, and for a horrible long few moments he’s back in the sea, sinking below the water while water fills his lungs and the sun shines overhead.

Icarus begins crying and Helios pulls him out instantly, wrapping him in a towel. “I know, buddy, I know. It’s okay. You’re here, you’re not drowning. Here, Icarus, you’re with me. In your apartment. You’re okay.”

He speaks repetitively and soothingly while Icarus cries and chokes on phlegm and shudders. Finally, in exhaustion, he drops his head to Helios’ chest, too tired to do anything more. Helios, like Apollo, is blessedly warm and the heat of him fills Icarus, easing the ache in every muscle in his body.

There’s a sensation of movement and Icarus realizes that Helios is carrying him out of the bathroom now, back to the bedroom. He’s set down on the bed, and sits there submissively as Helios dresses him again, in clean underwear and pajamas and socks, and dries his hair. The embarrassment floats through the back of his mind, but ultimately Icarus cannot find it in himself to give a shit at the moment, and for his part, Helios makes no jokes or comments.

The bed sheets have been changed and they are considerably plusher and more pleasing to the skin than Icarus remembers – he has enough time to wonder if one of the gods brought these from Olympus, before he falls asleep again.

————-

Everything after that is a series of brief, hazy moments of semi-consciousness, followed by long periods of sleep, filled with weird dreams.

Icarus wakes and finds several new plushies adorning his bed. Apollo and Helios quickly show him their gifts: a dolphin and a bunny, but there’s also chimera (“Eos stopped by,” Apollo says); a cat (“Athena”); a blobfish (“Hermes thinks he’s funny”).

Icarus smiles faintly as he brings them in to admire them. He loves them all but the blobfish does make an excellent pillow.

——–

He wakes, shivering. Both gods are on either side of him and press their hands to his chest. Their warmth fills him; he’s never felt anything so blissful in his life.

————

Once, Icarus half-rouses enough to hear a quiet conversation between Apollo and Helios. It starts after a long period of silence, broken by Helios: “I fucking hate this.”

“I know. So do I.”

“The kid’s miserable. We should be able to just fix this.”

“The consequences would be inevitable and tragic. It’s all part of that final decision he made.”

“Yeah, I know, I know, it’s just…” Helios sounds frustrated and sad. “I hate seeing him like this.”

“For what it’s worth, he is recovering. He’s responding well to all the care we’re giving him, so it’s not as though we’re really standing by and watching him suffer. We are helping. It’s just… slower than we’d like.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad, I guess. I just… I hate it.”

Icarus resolves to tell them, when he’s awake and when his voice is back and his skull isn’t pounding and his lungs don’t feel like they’re full of goo – he’ll tell them how grateful he is for their help, and how he finally gets it now, he sees how much they care and he’s sorry he used to doubt them, and he’ll tell them what beautiful, loving boyfriends they are and how much he appreciates him. He resolves it, but the conversation is already fading a little from his fever-addled brain even as he makes the promise, and he’s asleep again.

————

At some point Apollo has brought him into the bathroom to throw up again, and stands patiently by while Icarus attends to his bladder as well. The humiliation will certainly catch up to him afterwards, but Apollo is only sympathetic. “I really am a doctor, you know,” he remarks offhandedly as he helps Icarus back to his bed. The sheets are fresh every time.

———–

A couple of times, Apollo sings to him, softly, in a language that Icarus doesn’t speak. It must be Greek, but perhaps not… Apollo knows a lot of languages. Helios joins in, singing in harmony, and as he lies there, resting between their voices and their warmth, Icarus sleeps deeply.

——-

Icarus wakes, and feels better. Not great, but better. His body doesn’t ache and shiver constantly, and while he can’t breathe perfectly, he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly suffocating. 

He sits up and rubs his eyes and looks around blearily. Helios is sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through an explicit manhwa. Apollo is seated on a chair nearby, one leg cross elegantly over the other, reading a book on the science and function of birds’ eggs. 

Icarus manages to smile at them both, still drugged on whatever weird herbs Apollo’s been feeding him (he really, really hopes they don’t ping him for a drug test). 

“Morning -”

“Good evening, actually, Icarus, it’s 5:23 and 42 seconds, p.m..” Apollo puts a bookmark in his pages and closes the book, smiling. “You seem better.”

“You only look 60 percent of the way to Hades’ door, instead of 90 percent like earlier,” Helios offers helpfully.

“Thanks. Yeah, I feel better, a little – starving, though, and kind of sick of this bed.”

“Well, as luck would have it, Helios has recently returned from getting an awful lot of food from your employers. Leroy and Elverna have an enormous stock pot full of oxtail broth, chicken and rice, homemade fruit spread and strawberry chocolate chip cookies ‘for when you’re better.’ Leroy sneaked some beer he brewed himself with the instructions that the alcohol kills the germs faster. I was not present to correct him on his faulty medical advice.”

“I also got stuff from Blake at the Big Bean – ginger tea, and your friend Amelia got you banana bread from the store’s bakery, and this balloon.”

There is a balloon, floating near the ceiling, that Icarus hadn’t noticed at first. It was originally blank, and has been written on in marker: ‘At least it’s not chlamydia. Get back to work soon you lazy fuckwit.” Amelia, Joey, and several others have signed it. 

Icarus sneezes and stands up on his own, dragging the comforter with him to wrap around his shoulders. “I have the best friends. And the best boyfriends. Let’s watch something on Netflix and eat some of this food.”

**Author's Note:**

> (hilarious get-well balloon idea seen here: https://www.etsy.com/uk/market/rude_get_well_soon)


End file.
